


love is in your heart and mind (feels like christmas all the time)

by emorosadiaz



Series: 12 Days of Starmora 2017 [3]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Angst, Big Sisters, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Infinity War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 06:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emorosadiaz/pseuds/emorosadiaz
Summary: Tiny Thor came from the tiny door labeled nineteen. The Guardians came to Earth when the sixth door had just been opened, marking almost two weeks since their arrival.For every day that Gamora watches Peter open a new door, she breathes a sigh of relief for another day, another opportunity to participate in this strange tradition.But, at the same time, for every day that Gamora watches Peter open a new door, the Terran winter air is colder, the eyes she feels watching her every movement grow sharper, the tremble in her hands increases.





	love is in your heart and mind (feels like christmas all the time)

**Author's Note:**

> HI YES HELLO I HAVE TO BE UP IN 5.5 HOURS TO GO TO CHRISTMAS MASS SO I'MMMM GONNA MAKE THIS QUICK 
> 
> IDK IF THIS EVEN RLY COUNTS FOR 12 DAYS OF STARMORA BUT I'M JUST GONNA THROW IT IN MY 12DOS COLLECTION BC IT'S A CHRISTMAS FIC LOLOLOL 
> 
> this fic references "the day of hearts" aka a holiday i made up for gamora's people in [this previous oneshot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12924228), but basically all you need to know is it's kinda like valentine's day but not inherently romantic. more about celebrating the people in your life and expressing your love for them, usually by picking one person to rly focus on each year--a friend, a romantic partner, a sibling, whatever. thank u for coming to my ted talk
> 
> (also the title comes from "where are you christmas?" by faith hill bc i love angst and i love christmas so i love it when the 2 are put together!!!)
> 
> anyway this fic was #sponsored by advent calendars, pls enjoy and happy honda days/toyotathon/winter car sale!!!!

Gentle fingers, shaking ever so slightly, pry open a small cardboard door—one of twenty-four—on the celebratory box calendar (“add”-something?). Behind the door is a tiny action figure.

“Hey,” Peter says, grinning to himself and pulling the toy out, “it’s Thor.”

He turns it over in his hand, examining it. Gamora watches him from where she’s leaning against the back of a couch. Her fingers curl into the fabric a little more tightly as she presses her lips together, jaw tense.

Peter puts the Thor figure beside the others, all various members of these “Avengers” they’re teaming up with. He’s saying something about how Thor belongs with Hulk because they’re friends while everyone else hates each other for whatever reason, but Gamora’s gaze drifts upward slowly, from the figures back to the doors they came from.

Tiny Thor came from the tiny door labeled nineteen. The Guardians came to Earth when the sixth door had just been opened, marking almost two weeks since their arrival.

For every day that Gamora watches Peter open a new door, she breathes a sigh of relief for another day, another opportunity to participate in this strange tradition.

But, at the same time, for every day that Gamora watches Peter open a new door, the Terran winter air is colder, the eyes she feels watching her every movement grow sharper, the tremble in her hands increases.

They’re here because _he_ is coming.

They’re here but they don’t know _when_ he’s coming.

“Babe,” Peter chirps, turning to her with three figures in each of his hands, held snuggly between his fingers, “we should make an Advent calendar for _our_ team, don’t you think?”

Ad _vent_ calendar. Right.

“We do not have twenty-four members,” she says.

“We can have repeats,” he says.

She closes the gap between them, kneeling before the table with him. He hands her a Black Widow figure, then places the others next to Scarlet Witch.

“Look, you can even play pretend with them,” he says. He grabs the Hawkeye figure, holding it in front of her Black Widow. “Black Widow, I love you,” he says in a strangely deep voice. “I’ll always love you!”

“Barton has a wife,” she says dryly, lowering her hand.

“We’re playing _pretend_. Plus, they _totally_ happened in another world,” Peter insists in his normal voice before resuming the voice he’s apparently assigned to Hawkeye. “Black Widow, I know things look bad right now, but just know that I’m here for you and will always love you, even when you hog the blankets! And I want to kick your evil dad’s ass!”

Tiny Widow’s shaking visibly in her hand. “Peter.”

“All I want for Christmas is _you,_ “ he continues, pushing tiny Hawkeye closer to tiny Black Widow. “Also, if we were aliens and celebrated the Zehoberei holiday Day of Hearts, I’d choose to give my heart to _you_ every year!”

“ _Peter_ ,” she cuts in more firmly, setting tiny Widow down roughly. The motion knocks down Thor, Hulk, and Cap. She pulls her hand back quickly, guilt trickling up her throat, but Peter doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he just sets down tiny Hawkeye, laying him down beside tiny Widow, as scandalous it is. She wants so badly to comment on it, to joke about it, to—just to _laugh_ and, and _smile_ over _something_ right now, when she should be happily celebrating their yearly joint Terran-Zehoberei holiday with him and the others, _just_ the Guardians, no Avengers or Revengers or Infinity Stones or—

“I’m—sorry,” Gamora forces out, clenching and unclenching her hands in her lap, but Peter just covers her hands in his, as if to transfer his calm energy to her.

But his hands are shaking just as much as hers, no calm energy to be found. He weaves their fingers together and leans in closer.

“Hey,” he says, because they’ve long since transcended the “What’s wrong?” and “Are you okay?” levels. One word is enough— _more_ than enough—and Peter’s word is, simply, _hey_.

She glances at the seemingly endless number of open doors—counting down the days until Christmas.

(Or, really, until the end of the entire universe.)

“It’s almost Christmas,” he says softly. “Just a few more days.”

She turns her eyes back to his then, jaw set. He exhales slowly.

“Here, I’ll—“ He lets go of her hands and turns back to face the calendar. He gently goes through the open doors, pushing them back into as much of a closed position as they’ll return to. He goes in order of appearance rather than numerical dates, closing everything from the third to the eighteenth to the tenth to the first.

“There.” He pulls back when he’s finished, all the doors back in their mostly original position. “We still have plenty of time. All the time in the world.”

“I wish we did,” she murmurs, leaning into him. He loops his arm around her shoulders, allowing her to rest her head against his neck and jaw.

They stare at the haphazardly closed Advent calendar in silence.

* * *

Terra is much colder at night. 

Gamora regrets not taking any form of extra warmth with her when she pads down the hall of the Avengers Facility from her shared quarters with Peter. Her body mods have been hit and miss recently because of—things.

Stress. Exhaustion. Mostly stress. That had been Peter’s diagnosis, anyway.

(“When things go wrong up here,” he’d gestured to his head, then her head, “they also can go wrong all down here.” He then gestured to their bodies.)

Soon, she finds herself standing in front of the strange Ad-event calendar. Peter had opened the twenty-first door earlier that day, pulling out a figure reminiscent of the one called Vision.

He has an Infinity Stone in his forehead—the Mind Stone. He’s a definite target.

(An _easy_ target, something in Gamora whispers, but she tries to ignore it, tries to ignore that creeping feeling of being watched.)

None of the tiny doors on the calendar are open, though. And the figures are lying around the table in no formation whatsoever, a stark contrast from what Peter had been trying to do with them the other day. She frowns.

Before she really knows what she’s doing, she’s kneeling in front of the table, just as she had two days prior. She slowly takes the figures into her trembling fingers, standing them each upright, closer to the actual calendar box. She tries to think of the arrangements Peter had made before—Widow with Hawkeye, Thor with Hulk.

The quiet hum of the Avengers Facility tech accompanies her task, filling the silence with an odd sense of solidarity. Perhaps she isn’t alone; she has this entire building of people to work with her, to help her _fight_.

Winning is another thing entirely, however.

And even should they win—at what cost will it be?

“Just when I thought Quill’s holiday couldn’t get any weirder.”

She’s actually _startled_ by the voice, whirling around to see Nebula entering the room, arms crossed over her chest. Gamora smiles somewhat at the company, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

“Christmas is a little more tangible than the Day of Hearts,” she says as Nebula comes to a stop beside her. She places Vision beside Scarlet Witch.

Nebula scoffs, but then she’s kneeling beside Gamora, watching her curiously. “What the hell is all of this?”

“It’s an ad… _venture_ calendar?” Gamora shakes her head. “It counts down the days until Christmas with little gifts each day. Where have you been?”

“Not in this room,” Nebula answers dryly, picking up a figure and examining it. “These are toys of the Avengers."

“Yes.” 

“Weird.”

Nebula sets the figure down next to the others Gamora’s stood up. The facility’s soft hum of solidarity seems to speak to Nebula, as she starts turning the rest of the figures right side up, placing them beside the other ones.

They work in silence until each figure is stood up correctly. Gamora rearranges their placements and who’s-with-who a few times before sitting back with a soft exhale, examining her work.

“This is foolish,” Nebula comments. “But not entirely…stupid.”

“It’s something to do.”

“In the middle of the night?”

Gamora presses her hands together. “I…can’t sleep.”

Nebula doesn’t say anything to that, simply maintaining her focus on the figures. Gamora briefly thinks back to what Peter had said before—about a calendar full of the _Guardians_ rather than the Avengers. She could place everyone together similarly to how she’s arranged the Avengers, like a _family_.

“I’m glad,” Nebula says slowly, gently penetrating the silence, “that you are my sister.”

And Gamora actually _does_ smile at that, no matter how shakily, how cautiously. She even lays a hand over Nebula’s—a twinge of pain in her heart at the cold, _cold_ feel of metal where there had once been flesh—just like old times.

“You have my heart,” Gamora says. “As you always have during this time of year.”

Nebula blinks. “Not Quill?”

“He has my heart in a different sense,” Gamora says. “You remember the story of the Day of Hearts; it’s not just about romance. It’s about all kinds of love.”

“Unconditional,” Nebula supplies, because Gamora knows she’s told her the story countless times by now, especially when they were children.

(When they were children, when they still didn’t fully understand what horrible things the future held for them. When Gamora could still get away with tucking Nebula in at night and holding her hand under the table at mealtimes.)

(It was then that Gamora taught Nebula about her holiday, about a day of pure _love_ , for everything and everyone. It was then that Gamora told Nebula they would always be sisters—sisters by chance, friends by choice—and because of that, Gamora gave Nebula her heart every year, tried extra hard to protect Nebula for the holiday.)

(Things have changed since then. _They_ have changed since then.)

(But Nebula still holds, and will always hold, Gamora’s heart—her love and protection, for as long as Gamora can offer it to her.)

“You will always be my sister,” Gamora says quietly, not unlike the days long ago they had to whisper it in the quiet of night, when no one could hear them. “Happy Day of Hearts.”

Nebula gives the faintest hint of a smile.

* * *

It is on the Eve of Christmas—the last day of calendar—that everything finally explodes, the universe _depends_ on them, and Gamora’s pretty sure it’s the end one way or another. 

The end of the universe, for one. The end of her life in any possible scenario. The end of her friends and family’s lives, also possible in even the most victorious scenario.

The end of Nebula.

The end of Peter.

It weighs heavily on her shoulders with each shot of her blaster, each thrust of her sword, each breath she is privileged to take in the midst of the battle.

She sees Nebula go down, not dead, but incapacitated, only to be protected by Peter, who goes down in Nebula’s place, after enduring what appeared to be a fatal blow. She sees Nebula cry out in a mix of her usual frustration and her secret, familial affection, wearing an expression twisted between pure hatred and a deep, drowning grief.

But everyone goes down soon after. Gamora barely makes it to Peter and Nebula—the two who hold her heart most prominently, yet so differently; the two who her heart is basically _composed_ of and beats for—before she, herself, is struck down, and visions of the past and the future and the afterlife and hearts and stars and a familiar _green_ dance across her eyes in the span of an eternity that somehow lasts only a few moments.

And when she awakens, when they are all reunited, when _he_ is defeated…all she can think about is—

“I want to finish the calendar,” Gamora says through a cough to Peter, Nebula rolling her eyes with an infinity more powerful than just the mere _concept_ of an Infinity Stone. “You—“ She coughs again. “—Forgot to do the twenty-fourth.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about right now?” Peter asks in disbelief, quite literally looking to _Nebula_ for some sort of clarification, but Nebula’s still too caught up in her infinite eye roll to offer any explanation.

“It’s Christmas,” Gamora murmurs, the corners of her lips curling upward ever so slightly. “It’s the Day of Hearts. They came more quickly than I’d anticipated.”

“There were more… _pressing_ things at hand during our usual prep time,” he reminds her, squeezing her hand. “We could even celebrate forever if you really wanted to, now that that dick is dead.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Nebula warns, but it’s too late.

* * *

 

Peter wakes to the sight of a small army of Avengers figures on his bedside table. Tiny Hawkeye and tiny Widow are in the front of the group, apparently leading the charge. Peter groans and rolls onto his other side, away from the chaos unfolding beside him.

But Gamora descends upon the bed then, back in her usual spot. She holds tiny Thor in front of Peter’s face until he opens his eyes again, then sighs.

“Babe,” he says, half-spoken into his pillow, and closes his eyes. “This is the _third time_ you’ve gone through that calendar.”

“I like counting down the days,” she says with a shrug, pulling tiny Thor back.

“To what?”

“To _nothing_ ,” she says with a certain excitement he’s only really had the pleasure of seeing more in the last few weeks, given recent events. She smiles a little more widely. “I’m counting up.”

“From what?”

“From Thanos.”

He opens his eyes again at that, looking up at her. She leans over him to set tiny Thor down in her growing army—which will inevitably be knocked down in their next space battle, he’s sure—and then lies back down beside him, finding his hands under the covers.

“I’ve never heard of an Advent calendar being used to count _up_ ,” he admits. “But this is a good use for it, I think.”

“It feels good,” she says, and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah,” he murmurs against her skin, eyes slipping closed again. “Feels good.”

Her arms return to their usual place around him as she presses herself into him.

“’M’happy for you, babe,” he continues with a yawn. “Happy permanent Day of Hearts. Y’have my heart. Like always. Love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says softly. “Merry permanent Christmas.”

(And honestly, no matter what hardships they may have to face in the future, just living in a universe after Thanos with Gamora feels _so much_ like Christmas Day, Peter’s convinced Christmas really has been extended for the rest of his life.)

**Author's Note:**

> UM SO YEAH. this is hella late bc december is a super crazy busy month for me - finals, bday, christmas, hella traveling, all that good stuff - so let's pretend i uploaded this just remotely close to the actual 12 days of starmora dates, even tho i'm not sure which day(s) this would've worked for
> 
> possibly more christmas-y fics to come bc i'm a slut for christmas stuff and finally have more time to write RIP. 
> 
> definitely more infinity war-y fics to come bc i'm a THIRSTY AF slut for infinity war stuff. 
> 
> hope you all have a good holiday/day!!!!


End file.
